What Had I Created?

A wife offers herself to her husband to beat her to get his frustrations out. He’s hesitant, but gives in. She regrets it. But can’t back out now!

My husband came home, tired from his job. He sat down on the sofa, and rested his weary feet on the table. His dominant musk was filling the room and making it hard to smell anything but his sweat. My 11 year old daughter came in the room and helped her daddy remove his shoes, making the room smell even riper. She slowly pulled his socks off too, and he began wriggling his toes around, making her giggle.

I was busy in the kitchen, slaving over the stove for hours trying to make a delicious roast for my husband. He worked so hard for the family and made great sacrifices. He was a brilliant man engaged in manual labor, because that was his only way to provide for us. It frustrated him, to be around idiot men all day, lifting objects and placing them in a different location. He was meant for better things, but times were tough. So I knew I needed to make him feel special.

I walked into the living room and hugged him from behind. He turned around and kissed me on the forehead, as I sat next to him. We held hands, and smiled at each other. My daughter jumped around and announced she was going to run daddy his bath. He ruffled her hair and off she ran.

But when she was gone, and it was just my husband and me, I saw a sunken sadness in his eyes. He looked defeated. I rubbed his arm, trying to jolt him out of it, and he came to his senses and smiled at me. It made me uneasy. I knew better than to ask. I knew it was tough for him.

I didn’t know how I could make it better for him. I wanted to be the light in his life. He did so much for us. I thought back to my childhood, and how happy those days were. We had money, and we had happiness. I could ask for anything and I would get it. That, to me, was true privilege. I could have whatever I wanted.

I asked him. “What do you feel like doing, Luca?”

“I don’t know, Andrea. You know how angry it makes me. Working with those filthy, unclean…”

“Luca, you are better – ”

“I know that, don’t you!” He yelled at me, and accidently smacked my face with his hand.

As soon as he realized what he had done, he apologized profusely. He had never raised a hand on me. He was a real gentleman, but an Italian man can’t control his arms when he is angry. I knew it was an accident, so I allowed him to have a look at the bruise, but then I saw a glimmer in his eye.

“Is this what you wanted to do?”

“No, amore mio, it was a mistake!”

“But you do want to hit someone?”

He just fell back for second. Quietly thinking, he kept looking at the wall. Then he spoke, “I do think about beating those fools I work with. They make me so mad.”

He turned to me. “But not you, bella. I never want to hurt you. I just…”

“What, Luca?”

“Beating someone just takes my frustrations out.”

I thought for a minute. My dad used to beat my mom, but that did not impact my childhood or life now. My mom seemed presentable and the whole family was generally happy. Why couldn’t I let Luca beat me if it makes him happy? My daddy always said I was a strong girl, so I think I could take a few hits. And my husband, the love of my life, will be less frustrated as well. I had to offer it to him.

“You can hit me.”

He looked at me like I was crazy. In fact, I saw him laugh after a very long time.

“Hah. Are you out of your mind? I could never hit you,” he sang, as he leaned in to tickle me. He was in his playful mood now. He needed to know that I was serious. I twisted his tickling finger and he howled in pain. As a reflex, he smacked me hard across the face.

“Stop provoking me! I am not going to start beating my wife… you are too delicate.”

I spat at his face. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He attacked me.

He began beating me by bashing my back with his blows, as he held my head in a lock. He then lifted my head up by pulling my hair, and began punching my jaw from all sides. He lifted me up and kicked my behind once, and started spanking it. He bit my left butt cheek and it started bleeding, which prompted him to growl aggressively and dry hump me.

I knew it wasn’t his real side. He didn’t even realize it was me. He was in a safe zone, where he could let his frustrations out by the only way a man knows how: brutally beating and defiling a woman.

I took the bashing without resisting or trying to escape, but I still screamed a lot. My daughter ran back in, concerned. She saw her father in a state of half-undress, humping her clothed mother on the living room sofa. I looked back at her and yelled at her to go back to her room. I did not want to ruin my husband’s trance with her wimpy cries.

But my husband had other plans. He liked that there was an audience. “She’ll stay! Come here!” he growled at our little baby.

She was scared, but not terrified of her daddy. She walked up to him, hoping to talk some sense into him, but he slapped her across the face as well. She fell to the ground and screamed in pain. “All of you are getting your ass kicked today!”

My daughter looked at me with her puppy eyes, hoping I will protect her. But I had unleashed the beast today. And truly, I felt my daughter and I owed it to our provider. If this helped him, I will happily allow it to happen.

As I was lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even realize when it turned sexual. By now, Luca had virtually ripped every piece of clothing from our daughter’s body. She trembled in fear, not knowing what he had in mind and why I sat watching them, paralyzed. He dove in and bit her small tits, and hungrily slurped around, switching between the two areolas. My daughter let out a mix of howls and moans, as I saw his dick hardening in his overalls.

As he began fishing it out, I realized we had gone too far. I couldn’t let my husband rape our minor daughter, just because he was frustrated. She was still a kid. I jumped over to stop him, but he caught me before I could even touch him. He held me in a chokehold with one hand, while he found our daughter’s opening with his other. He pointed his dick at the slit, and thrust in hard. She screamed as she felt her hymen break, but she screamed even harder when she realized he wasn’t stopping to give her time to adjust herself to his thick sausage.

It was true. My husband was a large man, with a 10 inch beautiful white cock. We had stopped having anal sex because I used to bleed every time. And here he was, violating our baby. I soon passed out from the choking, and do not remember much after that.

+++++++++++++++++++++

I woke up with my head next to the sofa. There was no one around. I got up, and felt weak in my knees. I had fuzzy memories of last night, and I remembered parts of it. It was light out, and the watch told me it was an hour past noon. Did we miss school? Did Luca go to work? I had no idea.

I pulled myself together and took a bath. I made myself some coffee and sat down. Around 3pm, my daughter came back home. I rushed to her as soon as she walked in.

“Are you okay, baby? Where were you all day?”

That was a silly question. She was in her uniform, so clearly she was just coming back from school. I didn’t give her time to respond, I just held her tight and kept apologizing. I fixed her some food and we ate in silence. I took a pain relief medicine and went for a nap.

When I woke up, I heard gagging noises from the bathroom. I peeked in and saw my husband forcing our little baby’s mouth on his massive cock. She was struggling to even get a few inches in, and he kept forcing it down her throat. I barged in, hoping he would at least try to hide it away.

He stared at me and yelled, “You fucking bitch! You’ve slept long enough. Get to work now!”

What had I created?

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